A Long Way From Home
by BonJeanne
Summary: What started as a normal evening goes off the tracks and suddenly Blake and Elizabeth are lost in a country on the brink of civil war. Can the team maintain peace? Can POTUS and Russell keep the lid on a spiraling situation? Will Henry see his beloved wife return home?
1. Chapter 1

Hey guys. I'm back, yet again, procrastinating by writing fanfiction.

Swyholdt is a made up country, and so are the officials.

* * *

November 21, 7:03 a.m.

The speech was Dalton's idea.

It had started with a memo from Jay that there had been a particularly deadly attack in Osburg, one of the Swynholdt's more populous cities. The United Forces of Engas, a violent separatist group, had been declared an official terrorist organization earlier that year. As America's most powerful ally in South America, it was vital that Swynholdt was on the same page about terrorism and terrorist groups. Russell made the slightly opportunistic yet valid point that Swynholdt would be most susceptible to persuasion after an attack, so President Dalton had deployed Elizabeth to give a speech and convince the various government officials that UFOE was a true threat to Swynholdt's security.

Conrad had made it seem like it was the most important thing that she would do in South America, and Elizabeth was running late. It was mostly Henry's fault. He seemed intent on stalling her departure, whether it be by engaging in flirty exchanges or surprising her with kisses. On almost any other day, she would have loved to soak in his affection, but today it simply felt clingy.

"I'm gonna miss you," Henry said as reached out to embrace her for the seventh time that morning.

"I'll be back before you know it," she said and tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

"Stay safe, babe. I love you," he told her and pulled her close.

"Love you too." Elizabeth couldn't tell what, but something felt different. He didn't want to let her go, as if she would fade away as soon as she left. "It's just for a few days, don't worry. I'll be home by Friday night, and we can have no-rules Saturday." Elizabeth tried to assuage his fears with a bit of seduction. She gave him a saucy wink. "You know, grown-up no rules Saturday." When he didn't laugh, she pressed kisses along his collarbone and squeezed his shoulders. She tipped her head up to look into his eyes and said seriously, "Babe, I promise. Nothing is going to happen to me."

"Come back to me," he whispered, and kissed her forehead protectively. She smiled in reassurance, basking in his love for a few more moments, and then rushed out the door. She had a terrorist group to condemn.

November 21, 9:14 p.m.

The speech appeared to be a success. When Elizabeth concluded her remarks, she received a hearty round of applause. Within seconds, there was a line of Swynholdt dignitaries and spouses who wanted to shake her hand. Elizabeth had come to learn that mingling with foreign officials was just a part of the job, and it was a part of the job that she hated. Part of it was the mundane small talk that was essentially the same conversation no matter what country or which official; part of it was the hundreds of titles, ranks, and faces that were nearly impossible to keep straight. _Thank God for Blake_ , she thought. He stood by her side every night and never failed to supply her with names, conversation topics, and an alcoholic beverage.

"The president of Swynholdt, ma'am," Blake announced quietly as the first

"How do you do, sir?" Elizabeth said with a fake smile plastered on her face.

"Excellent speech, Madam Secretary," he said and shook her hand enthusiastically.

"Thank you, Mr. President. Do you think that we can begin discussing strategies to confront UFOE?"

He began to answer, but he was cut off by the sound of an explosion.

It took exactly two seconds for hysteria to set it. Officials began to scurry around the crowded room, desperately searching for an exit, while security agents seemed to be torn between evacuating the building and going into a full lockdown. Elizabeth grabbed Blake's hand.

"We need to get out of here," she said. He stared back at her blearily, too stunned to answer. "Now!"

The urgency in her voice must have cause something to click, and they started towards the side exit. When Elizabeth's mind was running through various scenarios to find an explanation for the chaos, the lights went off. Blake's fingers tightened almost painfully around hers.

Three more explosions shook the room, immediately followed by shrill shrieks. Those sounds, no matter how awful, were ones that Elizabeth could deal with. The sound that really got to her was the sound the windows made as they shattered. Iran. All she could feel was overwhelming panic. Her chest hurt as she struggled for breath, her heart pounding against her ribs. _No, no, no. Not again. Please._

"Help!" Blake's cry momentarily distracted her from the choking fear in her throat. She could make out the silhouette of someone pinning him on the floor. Elizabeth stumbled forward with all intentions of helping him, but her progress was stopped by a pinch in her shoulder. She was hit with a wave of dizziness. Her vision blurred, the room appearing to spin. Her legs buckled as the lost consciousness.

November 21, 9:51 p.m.

"Start again from the beginning. Please," Russell Jackson demanded. He stood to the right of the bed-headed president whose face was completely unreadable.

Matt took a deep breath to recount his story. "Secretary McCord finished her speech condemning the United Forces of Engas. She exited the stage, and an explosion went off. Panic took over the crowd, and people began evacuating the building. The lights went out and three more explosions went off, shattering all of the windows. A group of maybe 13-16 people entered, and they opened fire. At that point, I felt that it was unsafe to remain inside any longer, so I sought out the nearest exit. I eventually met up with the rest of the detail and the secretary's staff. We think that the attack was planned and executed by UFOE. It was probably in retaliation to the speech."

The president sighed and ran a hand over his tired face. "How many dead?"

"Two confirmed so far, and at least seven are missing. I know that sounds bad, but it could have been a lot worse. One was trampled to death as people stormed the exits, and the other was killed by a falling chandelier. We believe that the attack was meant to demonstrate power more than anything. We're not sure what their end goal is, but I don't believe that mass murder was one of them. They had machine guns. If they had wanted people dead, they wouldn't have held back like that."

Russell shook his head. "Strange. Swynholdt has a pretty strict gun control policy."

"From what I saw, these were military grade weapons."

"Were they left over from the war?" Dalton asked.

"No. They looked new. There's probably a black market with military connections."

"Well that's… incredibly disturbing," Russell concluded.

Matt nodded in agreement. "I think we should alert the CIA and Interpol. Several other government buildings were attacked, and some groups used decidedly less mercy. Judging by the carnage, Osburg will have too many bodies to bury in the coming days. At the very least, we can hunt down the leader of the group." The three men sat in silence for a moment, trying to wrap their minds around the rapidly-unfolding catastrophe. None wanted to consider the possibility that the secretary was dead, and by unspoken agreement they focused on the international implications of the massive terrorist attack.

"Mr. President?" Matt said timidly.

"Yes?" The President and his Chief of Staff looked at him expectantly.

"I shouldn't have let her that far out of our protection. I… I failed at my job. If she doesn't make it… I'm so sorry."

"Me too, Matt. Me too."

* * *

Well folks, here it is. I've been working on this for a while, and I was running out of motivation. I figured that posting the first chapter might motivate me to work on it more. I can't promise a steady update schedule, but I will do the best that I can.

Please review! It helps me get motivated to keep writing.


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry this one's super disjointed.

Fair warning: This update was quick because it was already written for the most part. I'll proabaly update every other week or so.

As always, don't forget to review. It really helps me to stay motivated.

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

November 22, 2:15 a.m.

"Just calling to give you an update sir," Matt said. "We've secured a perimeter around the embassy. Of the seven who are missing, we've located three, and-"

"Do you think that the Secretary made it out?" The president asked. Russell looked at the DS agent with his eyebrows raised expectantly, seeminglydaring him to give bad news.

"We have been unable to locate them as of yet."

"That wasn't my question. Don't equivocate."

Matt took a deep breath and released it slowly. "I think it's unlikely, sir."

Russell swore under his breath and ended the voice call. Dalton swallowed visibly.

"Shall I alert the family?"

"No, Russell. Let's wait and keep looking. There are still a lot of variables."

"Sir, if she's dead, I don't think it would be worth covering up. This is probably going to turn into a shit-storm anyway. I mean, we send the Secretary of State in and practically start a civil war-"

"I get it, Russell. Let's just give it a day. Go home, sleep, and we'll continue in the morning. For now, there is nothing that we can do except pray."

November 22, 6:00 a.m.

Henry's alarm clock blared, disrupting the quiet of the room. A hand whose owner was not quite conscious slammed the off button. He groaned and rolled over, extending an arm. That's what really woke him up: the cold emptiness that was in place of his wife. _That's okay,_ he thought, _she'll be home tomorrow night._ He yawned and forced himself out of bed.

After getting ready and starting the coffee maker, Henry turned on the TV. The caption read, "Swynhodlt in Peril: Coup on the Horizon?" His heart froze. _Swynholdt in what?_ He turned up the volume.

A pretty blonde reporter was speaking. "We have no new information as of yet, but what we do know is that several government buildings were attacked-"

Henry fumbled for his phone and called Elizabeth. "C'mon babe. Pick up. Pick up, please baby, pick up."

"You've reached Elizabeth McCord, I'm unavali-"

"Goddamnit!" He slammed the phone down on the table. His heart pounded in his chest, and he was beginning to feel dizzy. _Henry, be rational. Maybe she's still asleep or in the shower or talking to someone. Don't freak out. POTUS would call if-_ His phone buzzed, and he nearly dropped it twice before managing to accept the call. "Elizabeth!"

"Henry." That was Dalton's voice. His heart sank. _This isn't good._

"What can you tell me about my wife?" There was a very long pause.

"The building she was speaking at was attacked. She and her assistant were-"

"Is she dead?"

"We have been unable to locate their bodies." _Bodies._ "We are keeping an eye out."

"What are the chances that she's alive."

"...I'd guess about two percent."

"Don't fuck with me like this, Conrad!" Henry shouted. "A two percent chance is you trying to spare my feelings. Give it to me straight, is she dead?"

"I honestly don't know. I'm sorry, Henry."

He hung up the phone and collapsed in the kitchen. He wasn't quite sure when he had started crying, but there was no use in trying to stop. Not when the love of his life was probably dead.

November 22, 6:48 a.m.

Elizabeth opened her eyes and immediately shut them against the harsh light. With her eyes shut, she a moment to asses herself. Her whole body ached. Her limbs felt too heavy to move. Her joints were stiff. She was lying on a cold hard floor. What concerned her the most, though, was how slowly her mind seemed to be moving. Half-formed thoughts remained unfinished. Something impeding her ability to think straight. She felt hungover, but that wasn't possible. The attack had happened for she had had a chance to drink anything. Fighting the grogginess, Elizabeth tried to get her brain to function properly.

Eventually, she managed to put it together: Drugs. She had been drugged. That's what the pinch in her neck had been, that's why the lights felt too bright, and that's why she was struggling with cohesive thoughts.

Bracing herself for the assault on her eyes, she slowly reopened them. The floor was concrete, as were two of the walls. The remaining walls appeared to be steel bars. Elizabeth's disoriented mind concluded that she was being held in a cell of some sort. She forced herself to sit up. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Blake's body curled into fetal position. His face looked incredibly pale.

"Blake?" she croaked. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Blake?" He didn't respond. Fearing the worst, she crawled over to his body and pressed two fingers to his throat. His pulse felt strong beneath her shaky fingers, and his chest rose and fell with a steady rhythm. She carefully lifted his head and place it on her lap.

"Blake, wake up." She shook him. To her relief, he stirred and squinted against the artificial lights. He sat up with a groan.

"Where are we?" he rasped.

Elizabeth glanced around the room. There were large boxes with explosive warnings on their sides. Leaned against the far wall were what appeared to be military-grade rifles. "I think we're in a weapons stockpile." At that moment, a door banged open. A young man, no older than Blake, walked out. He was scrawny, body hidden in a baggy uniform. The color scheme looked familiar, but she couldn't quite place it…

"Here," he said. He slid two plates under the bars, each with a fork, a hard-boiled egg, and something that might have been mashed potatoes. "Eat," he ordered, his tone wavering. Something in his voice alerted Elizabeth's senses. She narrowed her eyes to study the young soldier. His face was blank, though fear shone in his eyes. He was clearly inexperienced, at least with holding hostages.

"Thank you," Elizabeth said and accepted the food. "Is there anyway that we could get two blankets? It's a bit chilly."

He hesitated. Elizabeth watched his facial expressions flicker between anxiety and compassion until he finally gave in. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," she repeated and gave her sweetest smile, as though it were perfectly normal to be held in a cell. He looked away and exited the room with a distinct haste.

Blake stared at the food. His stomach grumbled loudly, a result of not eating the previous night. "Do you think it's safe to eat the food?"

"Yes," Elizabeth responded and began to peel the shell off of an egg.

"Might I remind you that these are the same people who attacked the embassy and locked us in a cage?"

"If they wanted to kill us, they would have done it already."

"That's comforting," Blake said sarcastically, but picked up his fork and dug into the mashed potatoes. He chewed thoughtfully. "So now what?"

"Well… We need to create a way to keep ourselves healthy. We should create a daily workout to keep ourselves in shape. We also need to think of something to do so that we don't go crazy. It can be something as simple as telling stories and doing math problems." Blake cocked an eyebrow at her. "They taught everyone how to handle hostage situations in the CIA," she explained. "The easiest way to gain their respect is by acting like nothing is wrong. Making simple demands, like asking for blankets or using the restroom, helps you to build a relationship. The more human you are to your captors, the harder you are to torture or kill."

"And then we wait?"

"And then we wait," she confirmed with a nod.

"Did you notice his uniform?" Blake asked. "It had the same color scheme as a flag I've seen somewhere…"

That's when it clicked. "We're being held by the United Forces of Engas," Elizabeth realized.

Blake glanced at her. "UFOE, as in the extremist group that you just condemned?"

"Yup." She felt a wry smile on her lips. _That was fate, wasn't it?_

"Ma'am?" Blake asked with a tremor in his voice. "I hate to sound like a pessimist, but I think we're going to die here."

"No, Blake," Elizabeth said, tone harsher than she had intended. "You can't think like that. Listen: the president and all his men are probably looking for us right now. Plus, I'm ex-CIA. I know what I'm doing. You know what the first rule of surviving a hostage situation is?" He shook his head. "Keep a survival mentality. We are going to make it. I promise."

Blake's eyes went glassy, and he sniffled. Elizabeth's maternal instincts kicked in, and she wrapped Blake's shaking form in a hug, whispering reassuringly. Elizabeth wished that she could feel as confident as she sounded. Deep down, she was just as worried as Blake. She wished that she weren't in this mess. She wished that she were back home, curled up next to her husband.

Henry. Was he okay? Was he worried? Did he think that she was dead?

Oh shit. The kids. Their babies. Had the news broken yet? Did they know?

The idea that her husband and their three children were missing her- or worse, mourning her- was too much to bear. She choked on a sob as her calm exterior cracked.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry about the late update, I promise the next turn around will be much faster.

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

November 22, 7:15 a.m.

The birds were chirping particularly loudly that morning. Or, at least, it seemed that way. Maybe it just appeared more intrusive that morning because it was a reminder that the birds got to continue with their lives as if everything was fine, as if the world could just keep spinning without Elizabeth McCord and Blake Moran. One bird decided to land on the window sill and peck on the glass while singing at the top of its tiny lungs. Nadine rolled over and covered her head with a pillow to block it out. Just as she was drifting back to sleep, her phone rang shrilly. At this aural intrusion she groaned and forced her eyes to open.

Without looking at the number, Nadine accepted the call. "Hello?"

"Good morning, Ms. Tolliver," The president greeted her. She immediately sat up and ran her fingers through her hair in an attempt at professionality even though he couldn't see her. She cleared her throat.

"Good morning, Mr. President. What can I do for you?"

"I have quite a large favor to ask of you."

"I serve with a pleasure, sir."

"I want you and the team to stay in Swynholdt and help reestablish order. The last thing we need is to lose them to a terrorist organization."

"What about the Secretary and Mr. Moran?"

"We've got CIA and Interpol on it. We think it would be most productive if you focus your efforts on taking measures against UFOE."

"Yes, sir." Nadine paused, sensing that the President hadn't said everything on his mind yet. "Is there anything else I can do?"

"As I'm sure you know, you are in charge as of now. And if Bess doesn't make it…" his voice trailed off, and Nadine swore that she heard a sniffle.

"Understood, sir."

November 22, 7:36 a.m.

The door of the warehouse banged open. A burly soldier marched into the room and opened the cell door.

"McCord! Come with me," he barked. _This can't be good_. Elizabeth ignored the approaching soldier and focused on Blake.

"Listen to me. No matter what happens, stay calm. Just breathe. Can you do that for me? Please?" Blake nodded, eyes full of terror and tears. She slipped off her wedding band and engagement ring and handed them to him. "And if I don't make it... make sure these get back to Henry. Tell him that I love him and our kids and the life we built together." Elizabeth heard the cell door open behind her. Time was running out. So much to say, so little time. She swallowed her tears and looked Blake dead in the eye. "It has been an honor to work with you. You are an incredible person. I mean it. Don't worry about me, Blake. Everything is going to be okay. Okay?"

Blake opened his mouth to warn her, but it was too late. There was a familiar pinch on her neck and her world faded to black.

November 22, 7:44 a.m.

"Just to be clear, we're not doing anything to look for Blake and the Secretary?" Matt asked incredulously.

Nadine took off her glasses and sighed. "The President made it clear that CIA and Interpol are handling it."

"That's it?" Jay exploded. "We're just leaving them for dead? They could be out there somewhere! I've been held hostage before, and believe me, it's awful."

"It also looks bad from a press standpoint," Daisy chimed it. "Just saying."

"Our priority is making sure that Swynholdt has a stable government," Nadine said evenly, almost condescendingly. Jay's face flashed a look of disgust, clearly disturbed at the apparent lack of initiative on their part. "Look. I know this is awful, but the best thing we can do right now is to help Swynholdt. Search and rescue efforts will be much easier when everything calms down." _Efforts that are gone to waste if they're already dead,_ Nadine thought, but held her tongue. "It's what the Secretary would have wanted, and we are certainly not helping her by squabbling over direct orders from the President." Her team winced. It was a low but necessary blow. "Let's get to work."

* * *

Yikes. This chapter is all over the place. Loved it? Hated it? Let me know in the comments!


	4. Chapter 4

**This chapter is why this fic is rated T. Fair warning, there is violence in the interrogation scene.**

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

November 22, 8:17 a.m.

The kids stayed home from school that day. After a great deal of crying and hugging, the kids crammed on to Elizabeth's side of the bed while Henry climbed onto his side. Allison sat next to her father, Stevie sat on the far side of the bed by the nightstand, and Jason lied squished between his sisters. All four of them stared vacantly at the TV screen, desperate for new information. For Allison, Stevie, and Henry, it was a bit too much like Iran.

"Dad?" Allison asked, his voice small like she was three again and had had a nightmare.

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"Mom's going to be okay, right?" Henry inhaled slowly and didn't answer until he was sure that his tears were contained.

"I'm not sure, baby. But I do know this: Mom is the strongest and smartest person I know. If there's anyone who can get out of this, it's your mom. Okay?" Allison nodded and burried herself deeper into her father's side.

November 22, 9:12 a.m.

When Elizabeth opened her eyes, the room was much too blurry for her liking. She blinked a few times and tried to analyze her surroundings. Cold. Everything was cold. The metal chair was cold against her body, no match for the fabric. It was then that she realized she was still in her dress from the previous night. The once beautiful blue ball gown looked worse for the wear, the color dulled by dust and dirt.

She shut her eyes again and tried to process everything that had happen in the last... 8 hours? 10 hours? 12 hours? She wasn't quite sure.

Elizabeth let out an involuntary groan as she tried to swallow the wave of nausea that burned in her stomach. Bile was rising in her throat, burning her esophagus. There was a cup of water sitting on the table in front of her, and she tried to reach for it only to find that she was handcuffed to a chair. It didn't matter, though. She felt too weak to pick it up. Whatever she had been injected with was clearly still in her system.

She was in such a daze that she didn't even notice that there was someone else in the room until he stepped away from the door. The sudden movement caught her attention, and she tried to focus on his face. There was something distinctly familiar about his sharp nose and hawk-like eyes, but Elizabeth couldn't quite place it.

"Secretary McCord. That was quite the speech you gave last night, condemning the United Forces of Engas," he said almost conversationally as he approached. All her years interrogating people for the CIA, and now here she sat on the other end of the interrogation. That was poetic, she thought. But it also helped to level the playing field. Elizabeth forced herself to think. _Okay… What has he told me so far? He was at the dinner last night. That means he's an official of some kind. Right?_

"Thanks," she said dryly. _If I keep him talking, he'll reveal something…_ He sat down across from her and smiled in a vaguely threatening manner.

"You know, our country is not very different from yours. All we want is freedom from an oppressive overlord." _Wait… Is he the head of the military? Yup. Definitely._ Elizabeth briefly recalled Blake introducing her to him, though his name was slipping her mind.

"That 'oppressive overlord' is a democratically elected president," she retorted, attempting to project an essence of calm. The Commander in Chief of Swynholdt was conspiring with a known terrorist organization. That was bad. That was very bad.

He ignored her comment and continued: "I want you to help us persuade the American people to support their fellow freedom fighters. As the Secretary of State- and a quite popular one, I might add- you have the power to sway the public opinion."

"The United States does not negotiate with terrorists, much less support one," Elizabeth responded adamantly, a painful twinge in her heart as she remembered the spat she and Henry had had just a few weeks ago.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," he said. "What would the president do to keep his image? How would the American public react if they find out that the president let you- their beloved _Madam Secretary_ \- die?"

"The United States does not negotiate with terrorists," she repeated, emphasizing each word as if she were explaining US forgien policy to a third-grader. He slowly stood up from the table. Elizabeth's pulse ticked up a rate. He walked around to her side and turned her chair to face him. She tried not to show the fear on her face. The atmosphere turned much darker, and the temperature of the room seemed to drop another degree.

She barely had time to blink before his fist connected with her head. The force of the punch knocked her head back, causing a second impact when her head hit the back of the chair. A searing pain shot through her rattling skull. She bit her tongue, hard, determined to not cry out.

"Want to rethink that statement?" He leaned close enough so she could feel his breath on her face. He gave her a toothy grin, his tone sickly sweet, as he grabbed a fistful of her hair and forced her to look at him.

Elizabeth glared back at him, defiance and determination burning in her soul. "You can threaten me all you want, but deep down you know that you can't get what you want if you kill me."

"True." He shrugged and released his grip on her hair. He conceded way too quickly… He sat back down on the edge of the table, looking down at her and said, "Your assistant… Brad, is it?"

"Blake."

"You're quite fond of him, aren't you?" Elizabeth didn't answer verbally, but it was written in the surprise and fear on her face. _No, no, no. Not Blake._ "What would you do- No, better question: What wouldn't you do do keep him safe?"

Her breath hitched as the panic began to set in. _Stop it_ , she chided herself. _Panicking won't help_. Elizabeth forced her lungs to take a deep breath. Or, at least, she tried. It was more of a choked gasp. _Come on, Elizabeth. You can do this. You can't help Blake if you can't breathe._ She tried again, that this time it was an almost steady breath. It would have to do.

Summoning all of the courage she had, she hissed, "You won't get anything if you lay a finger on Blake."

There was a flash of movement out of the corner of her eyes, but it didn't even register until his foot collided squarely with her chest. There was a sickening crack. The force of the blow was nearly enough to tip the chair over. Elizabeth couldn't breathe. Her lungs refused to fill with air. She was left heaving and wheezing. Darkness swallowed up her vision as pain flooded her senses. The last thing she remembered before blacking out was his threat: "You'll want to rethink that. I'll be back tomorrow morning."

* * *

As always, please review! But I do have some questions for y'all: Are you guys enjoying this story? Should I continue it? What did you think of the interrogation scene? I wanted to update before I went out of town this weekend, so it's not as good as I'd like it to be, so I'm think about revising it. If you didn't like it (the interrogation or the story in general), what could I improve? And, last question, what do you think of a Blake's family/Team McCord dinner to worry about their loved ones together? It wasn't in the original plan, but I'm open to writing it. Thoughts?


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

November 22, 9:24, a.m.

Blake abruptly stopped pacing for the first time since the guard had escorted his boss out of the room and snapped to attention when the door opened. The young soldier that had brought them breakfast— who was apparently much stronger than his scrawny frame appeared— carried a very limp looking Elizabeth. Blake's heart nearly stopped. _Was she dead?_ The soldier opened up the cell and carefully laid her down on her back. He stopped, as if he were going to say something, but instead settled for an apologetic look as he left the room.

"Ma'am?" Blake cautiously tapped his boss's shoulder. Elizabeth groaned softly, and he was relieved that she was at least semi-conscious. Whatever relief he felt, though, was quickly overshadowed by horror when he caught a glimpse of the angry purple bruise blooming on her cheek.

"Oh God!" he gasped louder than he had intended. Her eyes fluttered open and she let out a louder groan as she tried to sit up. "What did they do to you?" he asked in a quieter voice.

"I'm fine, Blake," Elizabeth replied weakly.

"Due respect, I've learned that 'fine' means 'I'm in a lot of pain but I don't want anyone to help me.' What happened?" He could see that her shallow breaths were labored, as if each one caused her more pain than the last.

"I was punched. And kicked. That's it. I promise. I'm okay." The dazed look in her eyes suggested a mild head injury, and the sheen of sweat that had broken out on her hairline suggested that she was in quite a bit of pain, possibly due to broken ribs.

"Do you want help sitting up?" She nodded, clearly embarrassed that she needed the aid. Blake wrapped one of his arms around her shoulder and helped to pulled her into a sitting position. She let out a faint whimper as he leaned her against the cold cell wall. He took off his suit jacket and draped it over her. She smiled appreciatively through her discomfort.

"Remind me to give you a raise," she said. Blake shook his head, it was what anyone would have done. The sat in the silence for a moment, contemplating how dire their situation was and how bleak the future looked. Suddenly, Elizabeth turned to him.

"Blake, the man who interrogated me… He was the Commander in Chief of Swynholdt."

He mentally flipped through his government official flashcards. "Commander Zlo?"

"Yeah! That was his name."

"I hate to state the obvious, but that's incredibly bad news," Blake said, his voice higher than expected as the fear creeped in.

"Indeed." Elizabeth nodded. "The odds that there are other members of their military who have ties to UFOE are high…"

"Which means that the chance of a military coup are also high," he finished.

"Exactly."

"What do we do?"

"I don't know," Elizabeth admitted. And that's what scared Blake most of all: his brave, brilliant, and bold boss didn't have the slightest idea how to escape or prevent a coup.

November 22, 10:29, a.m.

"Ma'am! Ma'am!" Daisy's voice was as urgent as her knocking.

"Come in," Nadine said, preparing herself for the worst. Daisy burst into the room, tablet in hand. Judging by her facial expression, there was some very, very bad news. Daisy wordlessly handed Nadine the tablet.

"Oh." Nadine raised her eyebrow at the photo displayed in front of her. "Shit."

"Yeah," Daisy nodded vigorously, her nerves making her twitchy and hot-headed. "This is blowing up on practically every form of social media, and the public wants answers, but we don't have any! What am I supposed to do? I can't say that we're focusing on protecting Swynholdt from a future attack, because that makes it look like we're not doing anything. I also can't say that the CIA is working on it because that might jeopardize covert operations. I can't remove the photo because that would be a violation of sovereignty. And I most definitely cannot spin this! There is literally no option without backlash!" She stopped her rant, out of breath, and tried to compose herself. "Sorry, ma'am. What I'm trying to say is that I don't know how to handle this, and I don't know if there is a good way to handle it. With any luck, we have at most 15 minutes before a major news outlet gets a hold of the picture. Probably less."

"This needs to go straight to the President."

November 22, 10:34, a.m.

President Dalton rubbed his eyes wearily. Swynholdt was become more and more of a mess as the seconds went by.

"We don't negotiate with terrorists. Not like this," Russell said. "Of course, that doesn't really matter when you don't know who the terrorist is. How the hell do we not know who the leader of UFOE is?"

Conrad glanced at his Chief of Staff who looked even more rabid than usual. "Let's just take a breath, Russell. Are we sure this is Bess? Are we sure this isn't a hoax?" Both men squinted at the photo. It was clear _what_ is was, but it wasn't clear _who_ it was. "I can't tell for certain."

"Me neither," Russell admitted. He went quiet for a moment before speaking up again. "But Henry might."

Conrad nodded. "Make the call, Russell."

November 22, 11:57, a.m.

The kids fell asleep on the master bed, ensconced in the warmth of their mother's lingering presence.

Henry decided to sleep in the guest bedroom. Well, _sleep_ was a strong word. He stared at the ceiling or the clock, missing her, hoping that exhaustion would take over and that his eyes would close for a few fitful hours until news came. Now, though, the clock's glowing numbers couldn't put him to sleep. So he poured himself a glass of whiskey in the hopes that the alcohol would distract him from the cold on the inside. The cold that settled in his heart never seemed to leave. The only thing that could take it away was _her_. Her body next to his, her arms around his, her lips on his... He took a sip from his glass. Maybe the alcoholic warmth would replace Elizabeth's just long enough so that he could sleep and see her in his dreams.

The guest bedroom was uncomfortable and unfamiliar. It felt like a hotel room. It was fitting, he mused, that he felt like a foreigner in his own house. After all, it wasn't just _his_ house: it was their home. And when she wasn't there, well, it was just a house. It wasn't _home_.

Despite the discomfort, Henry figured it would be easier than the alternative. It was too painful to go in _there_. The sacred space that he had shared with his wife had been their mutual safe place, full of late night conversations, playful banter, and loving moments. Before, it had been a comfort to him and the kids. He had held her pillow and pretended that it was her. Then, when the kids fell asleep and silence filled the air, the room had felt too big for just him, and the pillow had lost her scent. It was just a pillow, and the bed was just empty, despite the three kids. Then it became a reminder that she was missing. And presumed dead.

The "missing" part he could live with. It was the "presumed dead" part that really got to him. Rationally, he knew that she was most likely dead and that he should just accept it. The odds that she had survived were massive, and they only grew ever hour. Two percent. According to Conrad Dalton, there was a two percent chance that she was still alive. He had probably rounded up for his sake in a rare act of mercy.

MATH One day, eleven hours, and 55 minutes. Nearly two God awful days since she had left and all hell had broken loose. _I never should have let you go._ He twisted the golden band on his finger, and something about it reminded him of _that night._ The one just before she left for Iran. _Just in case, I think you should wait a year to remarry._ He smiled ruefully knowing that he could never remarry. He could never fall that completely in love with anyone else. Elizabeth Adams McCord was the only one for him, and she was gone.

 _Missing_ , he corrected himself. _And presumed dead._

His cellphone buzzed. "Hello?"

"Henry, it's Russell. The President wants to talk to you at the Whitehouse."

Henry felt his throat tighten. "Can I ask what this is about?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you. Whitehouse now."

* * *

Sorry this chapter is super disjointed... I honestly feel like this story is falling apart. I'm working on the next chapter, but this story might go on hiatus after that... I just feel like it's a plot that's been done before and my writing skills do not do it justice/breathe new life into it. Sorry, y'all, I'm just struggling with confidence as a writer, and it's making it difficult to post.

Anyway, feel free to review. Let me know what you think about the story/my writing, and it's totally okay if you like neither. Your critiques will help me get better.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

November 22, 12:00 p.m.

"Ma'am, what did Commander Zlo want?" Blake asked hesitantly, afraid of the answer.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and groaned. "He wanted military support from the US to overthrow the government. I told him that the US doesn't negotiate with terrorists, so that's not gonna happen."

"Is there a way to compromise?" It was an optimistic thought, considering the physical damage that had been inflicted.

"Didn't get a chance to try, but I doubt it. He seemed very… intent on his goal. He's not going to stop until he gets what he wants."

"Ma'am. Did he threaten you?" Blake demanded. He knew that his boss was perfectly capable of handling herself, but after the incident with Andrada, his protective streak had been coming out more often than not.

"Sort of."

"Sort of?" That was a little too ambiguous for him.

"He told me…" Elizabeth took a shuddering breath before she continued. "He told me that he would hurt you. Or possibly kill you to get what he wants. But I'm not gonna let him do that." She placed her hand on his forearm and gave him a gentle squeeze. Blake suddenly understood what she was implying: she was willing to die for him.

"Ma'am, don't let him sway you like that. Frankly, I'm not worth backing a terrorist group. You can always get another assistant. I'm... expendable," he said, a tickle in his throat as he admitted to the fact that he was, in the grand scheme of things, not important.

"Blake, listen to me. You are irreplaceable. I can't even tell you how much-"

The door opened, and the young soldier walked in timidly. He was holding the two blankets Elizabeth had asked for earlier. He glanced between the two of them then awkwardly shoved the fluffy brown blankets through the bars of the cell.

"I, uh, got some blankets. Sorry it took so long," he said. Elizabeth gave Blake a very subtle version of the "this is good" face.

"It's quite alright. Thank you for going out of your way to do this for us," she said with an open smile.

Blake followed suit and added, "We really appreciate this. It's been rather chilly here."

"My name is Elizabeth McCord, and this is my friend Blake Moran." She reached out her hand, palm up so that her body language was non-threatening and friendly.

"I'm Anthony." He extended his hand through the bars, and they shook hands. Elizabeth studied him for a moment. She cleared her throat, and suddenly her I'm-trying-to-establish-a-good-rapport-with-you look was replaced with her "game face."

"Look, you seem like a good, honest person, so I'm just gonna cut right to the chase: Why are you helping us?" Blake's eye twitched. He wasn't expecting her to be _that_ blunt, but he supposed that under the current circumstances it was acceptable. Luckily, Anthony didn't seem to be put off by her directness.

"When I was five years old, my parents were killed in a skirmish between the Swynholdt military and UFOE. I had no other family, so my choices were limited: It was either die from starvation or join UFOE." He sighed and looked down in shame. "I eventually realized that this isn't something I want to be a part of, but I didn't have a way out. If I defected, they'd probably hunt me down and kill me."

"So... we're your exit plan?" Blake asked, slowly putting the pieces together. Anthony nodded, and then looked at Elizabeth.

"You are the Secretary of State, correct?"

"Yes. Well, I was, at any rate. I suppose someone else is at the moment, considering that I've been a little unavaliable recently," she said with a dry laugh.

"Could you grant me political asylum?"

"Anthony, if you get us out of this, you can live in my house for all I care."

"Deal. I'll be back at 4 tomorrow morning. I'm getting you out of here."

November 22, 12:14 p.m.

"Conrad," Henry said as he entered the Oval Office. The President sat behind his desk, Russell standing by his side.

"Henry. Please, take a seat," the President gestured to the chair opposite his desk.

"Is this about my wife?" Henry sat down stiffly, too tense to relax.

Conrad nodded. He hesitated for a moment and glanced at Russell for reassurance that he had made the right call before he said, "We've received a ransom note." His heart skipped a beat. On one hand, that was a good thing: a ransom note indicated that she was alive. On the other hand, a ransom note suggested that she was being held hostage, and possibly mistreated.

"How do you know it's real?" Henry tried his best to remove his heart from the equation and force his rational, analyst mind to take over.

"That's why we brought you here today," Russell joined in and set his laptop on the desk. "There's a photo, and we were hoping that you could confirm that it's Bess."

Henry averted his eyes from the screen, mentally preparing for whatever horrifying photo might assault his eyes. He reached in his pocket for his reading glasses. His fingers instead brushed along the smooth pink frames of Elizabeth's. A stab of pain shot through him as he recalled their exchange of glasses. _Now you have to come home safe, you have my…_

Russell cleared his throat impatiently, and Henry was jolted out of his train of thought. He dug in his other pocket for his own pair of glasses, and he quickly put them on and looked at the picture.

As soon as he saw the image, he regretted even looking.

Elizabeth was slumped over in the chair at an awkward angle, presumably because he hands were bound behind her back. Her tangle of blonde hair covered most of her face except for an angry swath of broken blood vessels that painted the pale skin of her jaw purple. The thing that scared him most, though, was that there was no way to tell whether she was alive or dead from the picture.

"Help us, help her," and a phone number were scrawled over the photo, presumably to get in touch with the captors.

There was a strange combination of fear and anger that boiled in his stomach, twisting his insides into a gorgonian knot. His mind couldn't decide between panic that his wife might be seriously injured and rage at whoever thought that they could lay their grimy hands-

"Henry? You okay?" Conrad asked, his voice soft and compassionate. He looked back blankly. How was he even supposed to answer that question? Was he okay? Of course not!

"Is that Bess?" Typical Russell, ignoring the emotions and going straight to the point.

"That's her," Henry said confidently. "That's my wife."

* * *

 **I want to say a huge thank you for all of your reviews last chapter. They really helped me to stay motivated.** Don't forget to review this chapter either! Positive encouragment and constructive critism is the way to go!

So I wrote this story partially to get to the fluffy bits at the end (I promise, there's like a chapter deticated to fluff at the end), but mostly I wrote it to explore all sides of a geopolitical issue like this. Sometimes I feel like episodes of the show leave stuff out for time, so I'm trying to explore all of these things in this fic. I want to include Blake and Elizabeth, Henry and Russell, the family, the team, and the press. Is there anything I'm missing? Anything you'd like to see? Second question that seems totally random but is vital for the next chapter: skis or horses? I'm leaning towards horses, but I also love snow so... Let me know in the reviews!

Also, I went back and added/edited the previous chapters. Sorry about all the typos, y'all.


	7. Chapter 7

November 22, 2:17 p.m.

Henry exited the room abruptly, presumably in shock. He left behind him an air of unease.

"Mr. President, kidnapping the Secretary of State is an act of war," Russell said not because it wasn't obvious, but because the silence was becoming heavy and intolerable. "That doesn't change if she's dead."

"Let's call Nadine and get her perspective."

Russell setup the call and got her up to speed. "We can't exactly take military measures against them because we don't have a deal in place with Swynholdt. We also can't not do anything because it makes us look weak. I'm sure Daisy's having one hell of a time dealing with the press."

"What _can_ we do?" The President asked, an exasperated edge to his voice.

"Well, sir, it's complicated," Nadine explained. "UFOE is a separatist group. They want to break off and create their own country for the minority in the South. As far as we know, they don't have a specific headquarters. They're probably using citizen's houses as meeting places. We also don't know who their leader is. We haven't even really been able to narrow down the list."

"It's like fighting a ghost," Russell sighed. "Nadine, why don't you talk to the president and the commander of the military. See if you can formulate a plan of action to prevent further attacks."

"Yes, sir."

November 22, 2:55 p.m.

Henry didn't recall driving home, but it must have happened as he was standing in their bedroom doorway watching their three precious babies whom they had adored even before they were born sleep. He briefly imagined what raising their children without her would be like, but shoved it away. It was too much to think about right now.

Stevie must have sensed that he was there, and she stirred awake. Her bright blue eyes- so much like Elizabeth's- blinked open.

"Dad?" she called out softly as not to wake her siblings. "Is there any news?"

Henry weighed his options. Should he tell their daughter that her mother was being held for ransom, possibly dead? Or was it better to say that there was no news?

"No, sweetheart. I'm sorry." Stevie seemed to accept his half-assed lie, probably too afraid to consider any alternatives.

"Mom got out of Iran. She can get out of this," Stevie said, trying to convince herself. "Right?"

Henry smiled at her because, God, she really was a carbon copy of Elizabeth. "Right. Team McCord always wins."

November 22, 3:36 p.m.

Blake stared at the bland ceiling of the cell, trying and failing to will himself to sleep, but there was one thought that kept gnawing at his mind.

"Ma'am?" He nudged his dozing boss.

"Yes?" Elizabeth also wasn't having any luck with sleeping.

"How do we know Anthony won't turn on us?"

She smiled grimly. "We don't."

He swallowed. _Well that was comforting. Not._

"Blake?" She grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. "I won't let anyone hurt you. I promise."

November 22, 4:23 p.m.

"Anything new?" Russell demanded as soon as he answered the video call.

"Well, I talked to the president," Nadine said. "He and Commander Zlo think that sending troops into Osburg will escalate the conflict."

"Is there conflict? Are you alright? Is the president alright?" Conrad asked, worry creasing his brow.

"We're fine, sir. It's not conflict as much as occupation. Daisy said that there are pictures of UFOE troops marching around downtown Osburg, but we're pretty far away from downtown. Whatever police or military forces there are right now, they're all going towards protecting government buildings and embassies. Frankly, I agree with the president and commander. Sending troops into downtown might spark a fight, and I don't want to risk civilian lives without trying more diplomatic methods."

"We don't negotiate with terrorists," Conrad reminded her stubbornly.

"Sir, I think that holding that line in this specific situation might do more harm than good. As I stated before, sending in American troops might start a conflict. Now, the ransom letter is asking for military aid, so clearly, they know that they can't win a fight against the government without help. In a way, they've been holding a peaceful protest, despite everything that happened last night."

"On the other hand," Russell countered, "there's no real way to negotiate with them. The ransom is quite vague. I mean 'Free us, free her' doesn't give us much to work with. They don't even really give us a solid way of communicating with them."

"I think they know that their greatest strength right now is their anonymity, and they're only willing to give that up if they have the power to overthrow the current government," Nadine mused.

"And that power comes from us," he said. "Which we not doing in any way, shape, or form."

"Unless…" Nadine started, but cut herself off.

"Unless what?" Conrad prompted.

"Commander Zlo seemed to be more open to sending a regiment of his own military to Osburg's city walls. It's more symbolic than anything. I think it could help to send the message that they are not to be played or used by UFOE. It's a display of power on behalf of the Swynholdt government, and it keeps us relatively out of the picture."

Nadine watched the president and his chief of staff share a surprised yet pleased look.

"That is something that I could get behind." Russell nodded in what might have been praise and cautious optimism.

"I'm on it," Nadine said and turned to begin making a series of phone calls.

"It's alright," Conrad said, raising his hand to stop her. "I'll talk to Commander Zlo. Great work." Now that they had a plan of action, he felt better than he had since the news broke. There was still a nagging sense of apprehension in his stomach, but he brushed it off as adrenaline.

* * *

Many apologizes, first and foremost for the late update. Second, this chapter is kind of a mess, basically just setting up what happens in the next chunk. Hopefully it's not to confusing, but if it is, let me know and I can update this chapter and have it make more sense.

As always, let me know what you think! I'm not kidding when I say that your reviews are literally the only thing that keep me writing. Thank you guys for your support. It really means a lot to me.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

November 22, 4:25 p.m.

"Thank you again, Commander, for being so open to this idea," Dalton said.

"It's brilliant, sir. I think that our military will send the message to UFOE that we are firmly with the government," Zlo responded, his tone clipped and impatient.

"I trust that your military's actions will stop the threat to Swynholdt's government," the president continued. "After that, I hope that we can work together to find my Secretary of State and put an end to UFOE."

"Of course. I'll let my generals know the plan," Zlo forced a smile then disconnected the video call before he allowed a genuine smile to spread across his face. _Dalton no idea._ He turned around to face his companions. "We're ready to proceed with the coup. We've tricked the Americans into letting us send troops in. We will have a new government by tomorrow morning."

Cheers erupted in the room.

"What should we do with their secretary of state and her assistant?" a small voice asked amidst the celebration. The room quieted as Zlo pondered for a second.

"I want a public execution at dawn. That'll send a message that neither Swynholdt nor America can stop The United Forces of Engas until we get what we want."

November 22, 4:28 p.m.

Nadine took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She hoped to God that this plan worked. As soon as UFOE troops were out of Osburg, they could focus their efforts on finding her boss and coworker. As long as Swynholdt's military leader followed through with their plan, search and rescue efforts could begin as early as next morning. For now, though, it was a waiting game to see how the clash between UFOE and Swynholdt forces would play out.

An insistent knocking at door disrupted Nadine's thoughts.

"Come in," she called. Daisy flung open the door and entered, looking even more flustered than she had that morning.

"I have to make a statement to the press." She sounded out of breath, probably from answering an absurd number of phone calls from various news outlets. "They're literally surrounding the embassy and demanding answers."

"What are they asking about?"  
"They want to know what we're doing to find the secretary." There was an implied _as do I_ hanging in the air _._

"Nothing," Nadine admitted calmly. "We've made an agreement with the military commander, Zlo, to allow Swynholdt to send in their own troops and force UFOE out."

"Ma'am, that's going to play terribly with the press."

"Worse than sparking Pan-American war?" Nadine snapped, her patience worn. "Because that's exactly what would happen if we sent our own military in. Think about it: It's a classic case of America meddling in the internal affairs of another country. There's no doubt that Swynholdt's allies would fight us to protect their sovereignty. That would leave us embroiled in a destructive, bloody, meaningless conflict without a clear out."

Daisy swallowed and looked slightly defeated, and Nadine felt a pang of guilt. "Understood, ma'am."

November 22, 5:02 p.m.

Dalton called Zlo for the second time that evening. There was one last favor he had to ask. "Hello again, commander. I ask this as an ally in good faith. Do we have any idea who the leader of UFOE is?"

Zlo shifted and rubbed his nose. "I have no idea, sir."

Wait a minute. Something about that statement struck the president as odd. " _You_ don't know?"

There was a long pause. "No. I do not know."

Conrad let out a dry laugh and shook his head. Throat clearing, verbal regurgitation of a question, omission of the royal we, and face touching were all classic signs of a lie. His CIA skills had yet to fail him.

"I have to admit, you had me fooled for a while, Zlo."

"Sorry?"

"You almost got away with it."

"I don't think I understand, sir. Got away with what?"

Conrad ignored his bluff and continued. "I had an inkling of suspicion when you refused to accept American military aid in Osburg. You claimed that it would escalate the conflict. My acting Secretary of State, Nadine Tolliver, agreed with you. _I_ agreed with you. Well played, by the way. It almost worked. You wanted- needed- us to support military aid in Osburg so that you could deploy UFOE fighters instead. I'm assuming that plenty of the military knows about you and your ambitions to overthrow the government? Really, it's brilliant: You kidnapped the Secretary of State and set up a diplomatically delicate situation in Osburg so that our only choice was to allow Swynholdt's military to intervene. But you intend to use UFOE fighters instead, so that no one tries to stop them when they enter the city right up until they kill the president, at which point it would have been too late. So, your coup would have succeeded."

He could almost see the gears turning in Zlo's head as he planned out his next move, but before he could say anything Conrad closed in for the kill.

"Your big mistake, though, was lying to the former director of the CIA. I know a lie when I see one." The president leaned forward, fingers interlaced as he rested his elbows on his desk. "So tell me. Where is Bess?"

Zlo's eye twitched. "Doesn't matter. Swynholdt will be up in flames before you know it. And your precious secretary of state? She'll be dead soon anyway."

The video feed went dark.

* * *

Okay so this chapter was not in my original plan, but I felt like my plot was kind of murky so I added it. Sorry if it feels repetitive. Also I intended to clarify things about the plot, but I probably just ended up making it more confusing. Let me know. I might end up editing this later.

The next chapter will be out faster, but after that idk. Fair warning, I might be on hiatus from end of January through March. I'll try to get at least another two chapters out before then, and I'll do my best to update during, but no promises.

As always, reviews are greatly appreciated! You guys are the best.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

November 22, 5:04 p.m.

It had been exactly 60 seconds since Nadine had lied down on the bed. In those 60 seconds, she had managed to recall every terrifying moment of the past 20 hours. She sighed and stared up at the ceiling, willing it all to go away.

Her phone rang, shattering the silence. She grudgingly picked it up.

"This is Nadine Tolliver."

"Nadine," Russell said abrasively, not bothering with any formalities. "I need you to evacuate the embassy immediately."

She intentionally sighed into the phone's speaker so that it crackled. "Good evening, Mr. Jackson. What is this about? All of the UFOE forces are concentrated in the downtown area. Is evacuation really necessary?"

"Yes!" Russell shouted. "And it needs to happen now!" Nadine would have berated him for his boorishness had it not been for the urgency in his voice.

"Russell, what's going on?" she demanded, but he had already hung up. One thing was sure, though: Something was wrong. Very wrong.

November 22, 5:12 p.m.

Elizabeth had just found a position that reduced the pain in her ribs from sharp and stabbing to slightly-less sharp and more like a throb when the door was thrown open. Anthony strode in, looking slightly frazzled. She sat up and nearly cried out at the feeling of her bones flexing in an unnatural way. Blake stood up and held out his hand to help her up.

"Is it already 4?" he asked and brushed himself off as best he could. "I didn't sleep at all."

Anthony shook his head as he unlocked the cell door. "No, but we need to go now." They started towards the exit of the room, but instead of going out the door than Anthony entered from, he ushered them through another door to its left.

"Back exit," he explained. "That's where the snowmobiles are."

They quickly and quietly trotted down a dim hallway with a few doors on either side. When they reached the end, Anthony opened a door to what looked like a winter storage closet and took out two sets of keys.

"Take a snowsuit and a pair of boots." Blake and Elizabeth took turns in the closet changing out of their worn-down dinner outfits and into the ill-fitting snowsuits. When they were done, Anthony opened another door very slowly, and a blast of cold, wintry air swept into the hall. Elizabeth inhaled her first breath of fresh air since they were kidnapped. Her taste of freedom was rudely cut short by a jarring pain in her side. She groaned softly, causing Blake to look over at her with concern. Before he could ask if she was okay, Anthony turned around.

"Coast is clear," he said and lead them through a small parking lot that was empty save for two snowmobiles.

Anthony put the key in the ignition and turned it. Nothing.

"What's wrong?" Blake demanded, his anxiety making his voice quiver.

"Cars and snowmobiles have similar engines. Sometimes it doesn't start when it's cold," Anthony said and tried it again. And again. Still, nothing.

"It's a fucking snowmobile for god sakes! Shouldn't it be designed to operate in the cold?" Blake exclaimed. Elizabeth placed a hand on his shoulder, quieting him.

Anthony tried the second snowmobile.

This time the engine chirped loudly a few times. The sound echoed loudly in the otherwise quiet evening. Elizabeth looked over her shoulder, wary of any guards that might have been alerted by the noise.

"Come on," Anthony whispered through gritted teeth and tried the ignition again. Elizabeth held her breath in anticipation, hoping against hope that it would start.

The engine backfired, the bang startling all three. There was a shout from the other side of the warehouse. They were running out of time before someone discovered them.

"Shit, shit, shit," Blake muttered. "We're going to die."

"Anthony?" Elizabeth asked, the calm tone of her voice juxtaposed with the pounding of her heart. "What's down that path?"

She pointed to a small trail that lead into the woods that surrounded the warehouse. It was looking like their only chance for survival at the moment.

"Uh… I think it leads to a horse farm."

"One way to find out," Elizabeth said, and took off into the woods.

November 23, 5:20 p.m.

"Agent Chaminade?" A co-worker from a few desks over approached the cubicle. The young woman looked up from her desk that was covered in classified documents.

"Yes?"

"Could you review today's drone and satellite footage from warehouse 43?"

Reviewing footage was probably the least exciting thing about working at the CIA, and consequently it was her least favorite thing about working at the CIA. Chaminade groaned inwardly, but put on a smile and said, "Of course. I'll get right to it."

"Thanks." He handed her a flash drive. She plugged it into her computer and uploaded the files. The images, one taken every quarter hour, scrolled by at a leisurely pace. The building itself looked normal, but her CIA analyst senses told her that something was off. She wrinkled her brow. Only three guards? That was odd. The past few days the guard presence at that compound had been much higher. Finding to the drone shot of the previous day, Chaminade counted eight guards. Had there been something worth guarding in the warehouse? Had it been moved between the two photos, hence the decrease in security? Inquisitive mind buzzing, she slowly scanned each photo, beginning at 8:15 the previous night. The agent's heart pounded, though thousands of miles away, what she might find could reveal something disturbing. Black market weapons? A human trafficking hub? The grainy satellite image from dusk at 5:15 revealed something even more incredible. She swallowed, willing herself to remain calm and avoid jumping to conclusions. She enhanced the photo as best as she could, and the pixels almost confirmed her doubts.

"Oh my God," she breathed. Without a second thought, the agent removed the flash drive from the computer and bolted towards the office on the third floor nearly crashing into several people in the process. At the top of the stairs, Chaminade found the receptionist and panted, "I need to speak to Director Haymond."

"He's heading out for the day, I'm afraid," she said a little too sweetly. "Might I suggest an email?" At that exact moment the director exited his office. He glanced from the receptionist to her.

"Agent Chaminade, do we have an appointment?"

"Sir? I have an urgent matter that I need to discuss with you." The CIA dealt with several "urgent matters" in a day depending on one's definition of "urgent," but it was an unspoken rule that "urgent matter" often translated to "the nation's security is on the line and there is an imminent threat."

"Why don't you step into my office for a moment?"

"Thank you, sir," she said and followed him into the room.

"What is this 'urgent matter?'"

"We've been monitoring several warehouses in Swynholdt for suspicious activities that might help us to crack down on the black market." She gestured to his computer. "May I, sir?" He nodded, and she plugged in the flash drive. "I noticed that there are typically eight to ten guards, but today there are only three."

"And this is an 'urgent matter' because…" The rest of his sentence was lost in a sharp inhale as she showed him the picture. "Is that…?"

"I can't be certain, sir, but there are very few other possibilities." They stared in disbelief for a few moments.

"Get POTUS on the line," Haymond barked. "Now."

* * *

Yup this was a quick turn around. I'm hoping I can get at least one more chapter out before February/when my life gets super busy. I promise Henry and kids will be there. But I also kind of have no clue/real planfrom here on out. If you have any ideas, feel free to pm me or leave a review. They seriously help me to stay motivated!


	10. Chapter 10

Good news: I already have most of chapter 11 written (it was gonna be a part of this one, but that would have made for a ridiculously long chapter). So there's at least one more chapter before hiatus. Hope 2018 has gotten off to a great start for all of you!

Shout out to the person who let me know that I accidentally made chapter 3 and 4 the same chapter. I went back and fixed it. Thanks for letting me know.

* * *

 **Chapter 10**

November 22, 5:22 p.m.

Russell rubbed his hands over his weary face. He hadn't gotten more than a wink of sleep in the past 20 hours, and it was beginning to take its toll. He felt himself dozing off despite his best efforts to remain alert.

His phone rang. Russell hoped that it was just part of a sleep deprived hallucination. It rang again rather defiantly, as if fighting to be heard.

He cleared his throat and shook his head to rid himself of drowsiness temporarily.

"Mr. Jackson. I'm sorry for calling without any notice. How are you?"

"Director Haymond. Good morning. Er, evening," Russell corrected himself after a quick glance at the clock. "What's going on?"

"We have reason to suspect that Secretary McCord and her assistant have escaped their captors." Russell did something of a double take over the phone. _Am I dreaming?_

"Sir? Are you still there?" Haymond asked after an uncomfortable length of silence.

"Sorry," Russell shook his head in disbelief. "I think I just had another heart attack. She… escaped?"

"We have reason to believe that, yes."

"Okay. Can you come down to the White House?"

"Yes sir."

November 22, 5:31 p.m.

One of Blake's first memories was of a county fair when he was about three years old. There were games, a hay rides, a pumpkin patch, and even a little petting zoo. Blake at age three was nearly fearless, and he had begged his parents to do a pony ride. The next thing he remembered was the sensation of falling and the sound of the pony's hooves— who had seemed terrifyingly large at the time— rumbling past him. He could never forget the heart-stopping fear that overtook his mind as he was thrown on the ground. Since then, Blake had housed a mild phobia of and a general distaste for all farm animals, specifically horses. He avoided riding, and thereby avoided failing off of, horses for nearly 25 years. That was, until his boss and a former terrorist stole three horses from a farm. Then his options were to either get on or get hunted down by a terrorist group.

Blake felt like that terrified three year old again as he bounced on top of a stolen horse. He gripped at the horse's mane with one hand and the pommel of the saddle with the other, struggling for balance as the animal seemed intent on throwing him off. His horse was tethered to Elizabeth's so that he didn't have to worry about steering. She, in contrast, looked elegant, downright regal, except for the way that she clutched at her side.

The adrenaline rush that had temporarily numbed her potentially broken bones was fading away. Every rock of the horse's body rattled her ribcage, leaving a searing pain in her chest that blurred her senses. She tried to distract herself by focusing on her surroundings: The last rays of day fading behind thick ashy clouds that crept over the jagged, rocky points of not-so-distant mountains, the plummeting temperature as the air grew heavy with the promise of snow and freezing temperatures, the warmth and life of the horse beneath her.

None of it was distraction enough. Tears of pain, exhaustion, and fear threatened to fall with each passing second. But mostly, she wanted to cry because she missed her family. She missed her three beautiful children and her sweet, sweet husband. She missed _home._ She wished that she were back at her warm, safe townhouse and kissing her kids goodnight after watching a movie. Elizabeth wished that she and Henry were snuggling in their bed, basking in the glow of their love-making.

She'd been so focused on staying alive, working to find a way out, and protecting Blake that now that she had a moment to breathe, the stress and terror was beginning to catch up with her. She hadn't felt this helpless and afraid since she was trapped under Fred Cole's body in Iran. There were heavy tears in her eyes collecting on her lashes as she tried to blink them away, all too ready to fall. Elizabeth didn't have the willpower to stop them because she was running on less than empty, and her thoughts simmering, close to boiling over that would manifest itself as either a panic attack or an emotional breakdown, neither of which her ribs could handle. She could sense sobs welling up in her fractured chest, her heart breaking with regret. Had she held her family long enough, kiss them hard enough, said "I love you" enough, before parting?

"We're here," Anthony said, stopping abruptly and jolting her out of her thoughts. He dismounted and landed in the snow with a soft thump. Elizabeth slowed her horse to a stop, Blake's following suit. She climbed down from her horse, not without a whimper as she landed, and helped Blake who tumbled off and nearly landed face first in the snow.

"Where is here, exactly?"

"The Church in the Sky. It's always been a safe haven for travelers. They provide anyone who knocks on their door with a bed and a warm meal."

"They also have tunnels that go straight to Osburg. It was the only city that remained neutral through every conflict, so it seemed fitting that the church had direct access to the sanctuary city," Elizabeth added. Anthony raised his eyebrow is surprise. She shrugged and blushed slightly. "Henry's wanted to visit this church since he learned about it."

Blake shot both of them a baffled look. "Uh… Am I missing something?"

There were no buildings as far as the eye could see, only the forest they had ridden through behind them and a steep drop off in front of them. The only man made object in sight was a steel pole that jutted out of the ground. There was a withered rope tied to it, dangling off of the precipice.

"Besides the tunnel, there's only one way to get to the church." Anthony nodded towards the pole. Blake's curiosity got the better of him, and he peered over the edge. There were roughly thirty steps carved into the face of the mountain. To its left, there was a thick iron chain to grab on to, presumably someone's miserable attempt at "safety first," while traversing a trail of shoddy wooden planks that protruded from the rock face and continued into the distance. Below that was a dizzying drop into a rocky valley.

Blake gulped. _Perhaps UFOE wasn't that terrible..._

"This is called 'The Test of Faith.' Legend has it that the path only holds for those who believe," Anthony said softly. The three exchanged glances.

"Not it!" Blake exclaimed.

"I'll go," Anthony volunteered. He gripped the rope with a trembling hand and descended the nearly vertical staircase. He cautiously stepped onto the first plank and grabbed the iron chain. When it didn't crumble, he gave them an apprehensive smile. "So far, so good."

"You wanna go first?" Elizabeth asked. It was only polite. Blake shook his head quickly.

"No thanks, ladies first," he said. When she hesitated, he made a grand sweeping gesture and bowed slightly for extra effect. "After you, Madam Secretary." She glared but made her way to the edge of the mountain. She clutched the fraying rope with both hands and started down the steps.

 _The path only holds for those who believe._

Elizabeth didn't believe in God. Even as a little girl, she had doubts. Her parents took her and WIll to Mass on Easter and Christmas, but that was the extent of her religious upbringing. After her parents' death, she rejected the idea of God entirely. For years, she scoffed at anyone who identified as anything besides atheism, brushing them off as irrational and medieval. Then she met Henry. At the time, he was a young man who was wise beyond his years but had a head full of dreams. He was full of doubts and faith, a dichotomy that Elizabeth could never understand, but she grew to respect his beliefs and studies. When her childhood bereavement closed the door to God, his loss opened entire worlds. Despite their differences, he never forced religion on her. Henry was a good man, full of faith and virtue and love.

Elizabeth didn't believe in God, but she believed in her husband. And she hoped- prayed- that that would be enough. She took as deep of a breath as her ribs would allow and stepped onto the flimsy wooden plank.

* * *

I'm having this struggle where I know that people could write this story better than I can, but at the same time I know that the only way I can improve is to keep writing. Ugh. I guess I just have to push through it.

Anyway, as always, reviews are greatly appreciated.


	11. Chapter 11

Huge shout out for all of the kind reviews last chapter! It really helped me to write this one.

* * *

 **Chapter 11**

November 22, 5:38 p.m.

"What do you mean they _escaped_?" Zlo spat, pacing in his office. The guard who had been tasked with delivering the disturbing news shifted nervously.

"They left through the back door. We think they went into the woods. After that, we don't know."

"How did this happen?" Zlo demanded. "We had the compound surrounded!"

"It appears that Anthony defected. We think that he helped them to escape."

"Find them. All of them."

"And when we do?" The guard asked hesitantly, fearing the response he might get.

"Shoot them on sight. And don't stop until they're dead."

November 22, 5:40 p.m.

Dalton stared out the window of the Oval Office as his Chief of Staff and Director of the CIA argued behind him.

"The only 'proof' we have that they've escaped is a low-quality satellite photo!" Russell exclaimed.

"Yes, but how many other people could that be?" Haymond countered. "The Secretary is, to be blunt, important. We don't want to lose her! If there's a chance that she's on the run, shouldn't we try to save her?"

"For all we know, UFOE wants us to think that it's Bess. Maybe they want to distract us from Osburg. As much as I want to get her back, it's going to be much easier to do that when there's a stable government in Swynholdt. If she's out there, I think that she can manage."

"Gentlemen, please," Conrad cut them off. "What are the facts?"

"There is a satellite image of three people fleeing Warehouse 43, one of whom appears to be a woman with blonde hair," Haymond said. "We also know that there is a snow storm rolling into the mountains, and the temperatures will drop well below freezing. If they're going on foot, and that seems to be the case, they'll probably freeze to death."

"There's also the threat of an impending military coup," Russell added.

"Where are Nadine and the team?"

"En route to the air force base. We've alerted the President, and he is being taken to his bunker as we speak," Admiral Hill, who had been silent until then, responded.

"How is the situation on the ground?"

"Satellite and intelligence are reporting that there are troops moving into Swynholdt, but it's impossible to tell if they are UFOE or Swynholdt," Haymond answered.

Conrad sighed. "Alright. Send in a small unit to Osburg, strictly for surveillance. Do not engage. We'll keep a close eye on the situation, but I don't want to lose any lives. Our priorities are making sure that Swynholdt still stands tomorrow and getting our team to safety. We'll reevaluate in a few hours, or if something changes. Thank you both."

November 22, 5:44 p.m.

The steady stream of curse words that had been running through Anthony's mind since he first put his weight onto the planks didn't stop until he stepped onto what looked like a door stoop, except for the fact that it was hanging several feet off the ground. It was about ten feet wide by five feet long and attached to the mountain by two steel cables. There was a simple wooden door with a brass knocker. The plaque just above the knocker read, "I was hungry, and you gave me food; I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink; I was a stranger, and you welcomed me. Matthew 25: 35."

Anthony hoped that the church lived up to its reputation and plaque as he shivered. The sun dropped lower in the sky, the temperature following suit. The winds were beginning to pick up, and the first snowflakes were fluttering down from the sky.

"I hope I never have to do that ever again," Elizabeth announced when she made it to the ledge. She reached out her hand to Blake, who was just behind her, and helped him to relative safety. He was panting, a combination of fear and exertion. His legs were trembling from adrenaline, his biceps and forearms burning from clinging to the iron chain for dear life. The sweat on his body was making the inside of his snowsuit uncomfortably clammy, but he didn't dare to unzip it.

"I should start going to church," he said.

Anthony smiled wryly. "Yeah, but maybe one with a street from entrance."

"I swear to God," Elizabeth said, "if Henry wants to visit here, he's either going alone or we're taking the helicopter tour." She walked up to the door and knocked.

A monk dressed in black robes opened the door slowly. He smiled at the warmly and said, "Welcome, travelers. Please, come in."

November 22, 5:51 p.m.

"Ma'am." Daisy tapped Nadine's shoulder from the back row of the SUV. "Ma'am, I know this is a terrible time, but I just found something I think you need to see this." She handed her the iPad. It was the same photo as used in the ransom demand, the secretary slumped over in a chair, but this time with the words "Have you seen me?" were written over the image.

Nadine pursed her lips. "In your best estimate, how likely is this that it's legitimate?"

"More likely than not," Daisy said. "If the ransom demand was real, then this one is as well. It came from the same account."

"Frank," Nadine called to the driver stoically.

"Yes ma'am?"

"Stop the car."

"What?"

"Stop. The. Car."

Frank slammed on the breaks and turned around so that he could see the back seats. "Is something wrong?"

Nadine didn't answer, but she exited the vehicle. Matt, Daisy, and the DS agents looked at her, confusion on their faces. "I can't leave in good conscience knowing that the Secretary and Blake are still out there. They won't stand a chance if we leave in that plane. Now, I'm staying here, but I'll understand if you want to go. That decision is yours to make."

"Ma'am, due respect, but this is in direct violation of the president's orders," Frank said in his typical "I'm-just-following-orders" voice.

"Yes. It is," she conceded. "But it's also what the secretary would do for us."

"I'm in," Jay unbuckled his seatbelt and joined her.

"I think I want to go back. I just… Joanna…" Daisy started.

Nadine waved her hand. "Of course. I understand."

"I'll help as much as I can from D.C."

"Thank you."

Matt awkwardly climbed out of the back row. "I want to stay, but I don't know how a speechwriter is going to be helpful."

Meanwhile, in the front seat, there was a rock, scissors, paper match going on. Matt lost and stepped out of the car. He cleared his throat, not thrilled to be joining them in disobeying direct orders from the president.

"So," Nadine said, straightening her cravat. "Anyone have any ideas where to start?"

"There's an underground tunnel system that was built during the war. Most of them collapsed, but the larger ones are still intact," Matt explained. Jay cocked an eyebrow at him. He shrugged. "I did a report on this in, like, ninth grade."

"See Matt!" Nadine patted his shoulder. "You're helpful."

"Yeah, but don't you think an underground tunnel system would be a pretty great place to hide a terrorist group?"

Jay gulped. "One way to find out."

* * *

Well folks, here's where I say I'm going on hiatus. Just to clarify, hiatus doesn't mean that I'm giving up on the story, it just means that this story isn't one of my highest priorities and I won't have as much time to work on it. I promise I'll update as much as possible, but that may not be until March.

In the meantime, let me know what you think! Feel free to pester me, it might help me get motivated to crank out an update. If anyone has an idea for a Henry/kids scene, let me know. I've been so focused on moving the plot forward that I've completely neglected them in the process.

Wish me luck on my auditions!


	12. Chapter 12

So I changed the DS agent from Matt to Frank to limit the confusion, sorry about that.

* * *

 **Chapter 12**

November 22, 5:59 p.m.

The monk lead the three travelers to separate rooms, each with a single bed and a small lamp. They were each given a warm bucket of water, a washcloth, a set of robes, and a messenger bag. Elizabeth winced when she caught a glimpse of the dark bruise that stained her ribcage as she undressed and washed herself. Once she was clean, she donned the soft, warm robe and shoved her stolen snowsuit and the sad remnants of her dinner gown into the bag.

Elizabeth left her room to find Anthony and the monk sitting at a table with three steaming bowls of soup. A few moments later, freshened up Blake emerged from his room and joined them. He sat down next her and they began to eat. Once they had finished, the monk offered them a place to say for the night.

"After all, you need your need rest," he insisted.

"Thank you for your hospitality," Elizabeth said with a slight bow of her head, "but we must continue on our journey."

"Of course," he replied, and understanding smile on his face. "In that case, I assume that you are looking for the tunnel?"

They nodded.

"Follow me."

November 22, 6:02 p.m.

The entrance to the tunnels wasn't hard to find, as they were a major tourist attraction. Or, at least, had been. The gift shop was dark and deserted, and the ticketing office had a a closed sign in the window. Nadine pushed open a rotting gate that lead to a steep staircase. What was left of the fading daylight was not enough to reach the bottom. If she were being completely honest, it was what she imagined a descent into hell to look like.

"I'll go first," Frank said, his normal monotone voice taking on a slightly higher pitch. Nadine followed, Jay and Matt behind her. She kept her hand on the cool damp wall for stability. When she reached the bottom, she felt an abnormal protrusion from the wall. She fumbled around for a bit, but then realized that it was a light switch. She flicked it on.

There was a low humming sound, and Nadine heard Frank cock his gun, ready to fire at whatever was in the dark. There was a series of clicking noises, and suddenly obnoxious, fluorescent lights illuminated the area from above. There were various signs that pointed towards tunnel entrances and cheesy informative plaques with poorly drawn illustrations.

"Now what?" Jay asked. Matt picked up a brochure and blew off the dust.

"Who's up for a self-guided tour?" They broke out into nervous laughter.

"Ms. Tolliver," Frank interrupted, "I have to advise against this. An abandoned tunnel system sounds like a terrorist's dream hideout."

"Noted," Nadine said.

"We could be walking straight into an ambush!"

"They can't know that we're coming. Chances are that all UFOE fighters are either marching around the other side of Osburg or searching for the Secretary. I'd argue that this is one of the safer places in the city right now," she reasoned.

"Fine," Frank grumbled. "But we're staying together, and I go first."

"Deal. Let's start with the tunnel on the far right work our way left."

November 22, 6:14 p.m.

The kids had spent most of the day doing various this to distract themselves. Stevie had taken it upon herself to clean the entire house, as it was just mindless enough that she could channel her restlessness into without using too much brain power. Allison was sitting in the kitchen, working on various sketches, but without her usual enthusiasm. Jason curled up on the living room couch and played violent video games without a complaint from his siblings. Henry sat at his desk, in a sort of trance. He knew that time was passing, but he didn't know or care how much time had passed.

The phone in the kitchen rang. Stevie picked it up, squeezing it between her shoulder and ear as she dried her hands off with a hand towel. "McCord residence."

"Stevie, put your dad on the phone."

"Dad!" Stevie called, a little louder than she intended and winced as he startled in his chair.

"Yes? Is everything okay?"

"It's security," she said as she walked over to him and handed him the phone. Henry ran a tired hand through his hair.

"Hello?"

"Sir, we have Russell Jackson at the front door. Shall we let him in?" the agent asked, a hint of compassion showing through a usually monotone voice.

"Yes, please. Thank you." Henry replied. A few moments later, there was a certousy knock, and before Russell let himself in. Henry towered over him, arms crossed. The kids lingered at a respectful distance, but not quite out of earshot.

Russell took a breath, avoiding eye contact. "There's a satellite photo… We think it's Bess and Blake running away from the warehouse. And there's another photo. Well, it's the same photo, but now it says, 'have you seen me,' so we think that they escaped."

Henry unfolded his arms, blinking as he tried to take in the information. "She's… alive?" Then he shook his head. There was something off about his body language. "That's not all, is there?"

"Nadine, Jay, Matt, and Frank… They went off the grid," Russell admitted.

"Were they taken hostage?"

"No. According to one of the DS agents, they wanted to stay in Osburg. They wanted to find Bess. There's nothing we can do but wait."

Henry collapsed into a nearby chair. "Oh God."

November 22, 6:21 p.m.

Two of the tunnels had been a roundabouts, and the other three had been dead ends that ended with dilapidated tourist exhibits. By this point, hopes of finding the Secretary and Blake were sinking rapidly. Nadine's adrenaline had worn off, and her heels were killing her. Her ankles were aching from the uneven terrain, and her toes were being rubbed raw.

"Is this tunnel getting narrower, or is it just me?" Matt asked, disrupting the quiet. Nadine looked around. Now that he mentioned it, the tunnel did seem narrower. The previous tunnels had been widened to accommodate tourist groups, but this one was barely wide enough for four to walk abreast.

"No, I think you're right," Nadine responded. They continued on in silence for a few minutes, when the tunnel ended. Or, more accurately, the overhead light ended. There was more tunnel— or at least one could assume so by the depth of the darkness— but no light by which to navigate.

"Okay, this is freaking me out," Jay admitted with a shaky voice.

"My gut says that something is off," Frank added. Matt pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight. It wasn't nearly enough bright enough to see, but it was just enough to illuminate the ground at his feet to prevent him from tripping or possibly falling off of a drop off.

"I'll go for a little bit, and then holler if I see anything," Matt said. "Frank, you good to come with me?" He nodded, and the two of them pressed on into the darkness, leaving Jay and Nadine behind. Their footsteps grew more distant and eventually stopped. It went quiet.

"Shit!" Matt swore. Nadine's pulse ticked up.

"Matt? Frank? You okay?" Nadine called. Her voice echoed eerily off the walls.

"Yes ma'am, we're alright," Frank yelled back. "But there's something you should take a look at. I think we found something." Nadine took a breathe gave a hesitant glance to Jay. They stepped into the darkness, leaving the light behind.

* * *

Hey y'all! Sorry it's taken me this long to update. It's probably gonna be another while for the next update. I wrote most of this while sleep deprived on planes, so if you see typos or just stuff that doesn't make sense, feel free to let me know. As always, let me know what you think! It helps me write.

Also, I haven't mentioned Henry and the fam for five chapters... oops.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

November 22, 6:22 p.m.

"Crap," Blake said as they stopped. The tunnel split into two separate paths with no indication as to where they led. To make matters worse, the lighting stopped as well, leaving both tunnels in complete darkness.

"Now what?" Elizabeth asked, unsuccessfully trying to keep the frantic tone out of her voice.

Anthony bravely stepped into the left tunnel. "Let's just walk down each one a little bit and see. The church was in a mountain, and Osburg is in a valley. If the tunnel slopes down, it's probably going to Osburg."

Blake nodded. He wasn't enthusiastic about the plan, but he knew it was the best that they had. The two men began walking down the tunnel, but Elizabeth couldn't quite get herself to follow them. Blake turned around, his face barely visible in the fading light. "Ma'am? Are you coming?"

"Yeah," she squeaked. She would never admit it to anyone except Henry, but Elizabeth had just the tiniest bit of claustrophobia. She blamed it on one time when she was playing hide and seek with Will when they were little. She had found the perfect hiding spot: their parents' closet. When Will had called "olly olly oxen free," Elizabeth found herself trapped in the closet. She frantically searched for the handle only to get tangled in clothes. It had felt the shadows were smothering her. Since that day, Elizabeth avoided dark, enclosed spaces if at all possible.

It went without saying, then, that the tunnel whose only source of light was behind them was not Elizabeth's cup of tea. Although the tunnel was probably the safest she had been all day, her limbs quivered, a combination of fear and exhaustion. Her heart beat at an uncomfortable tempo. Her breathing was shallow, partly due to fear, partly to accommodate her damaged ribs. On top of everything else that had happened, the tunnel only served to compound the mounting anxiety in her throat. There was a panic attack looming in her near future; it was only a matter of time.

"Hey guys, is that a light?" Blake asked, squinting down the shadowy tunnel.

"I think so," Elizabeth said, but her voice was covered by a loud thud followed by the skittering of pebbles. She froze. Her mind went to worst case scenarios: earthquake, UFOE troops, Minotaur.

"Uh, guys? What was that?" Anthony whispered. Neither responded, but the crunch of the dirt floor signaled that someone or something was approaching answered his question. One faint light split into two bobbling lights that floated into focus. Elizabeth belatedly thought to turn tail and run, but her time ran out.

"Freeze!" A voice boomed through the darkness. "I will shoot!"

Blake tried to stay still, but the trembling in his limbs made it nearly impossible. He felt like a rabbit, cornered by a pack of wolves. The lights came closer, and Blake could distinguish four figures. They stopped. His heart pounded. Was this it? Was this where his life ended, in an ancient tunnel below a foreign country?

Then one of the figures spoke. "Madam Secretary?"

Elizabeth could recognize that voice anywhere. "Nadine?"

"Ma'am, it is really good to see you."

November 22, 6:29 p.m.

"The airfield isn't too far," Frank said as they approached the exit of the tunnels.

"We don't have a car," Nadine reminded him. "And UFOE agents surrounded the city before we left. If anything, it'll be worse now."

"I know the back streets. I can get us there without being seen too much," Anthony offered.

"Lead the way," Jay said.

"Wait," Matt interrupted stepping in front of the group. "Our plan is to dash around a city that we don't know in the midst of an attempted coup? And our navigation is some guy from the very terrorist organization that's staging the coup? How do we know he won't lead us into a death trap?"

Blake jumped to his new friend's defense. "Anthony has done nothing but help us. We'd both be dead by now if it weren't for him."

"I trust him with my life," Elizabeth agreed. "And it's the best plan we've got."

* * *

Hey guys. It's been a while with this story. I'm so sorry that it's taken me this long to update (idk if anyone's even still reading this). I feel like I say this at the end of every chapter, but I've been chatastrophically under-motivated to work on this, primarily because I've lost faith in my ability to write it. I'm a solid way into the next chapter, and there are probably only like 2-3 more left plus an epilogue. I'm determined to finish this, even if it sucks because that's how I get better at writing. I hope you guys will hold me to it.

Anyway, let me know what you think


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

November 22, 7:03 p.m.

The boots of two UFOE soldiers crunched on the gradually thickening layer of snow on a deserted street. The silence in the outskirts of Osburg was in sharp contrast to the impending coup downtown. Citizens had shut themselves in their homes to avoid any unfolding chaos.

"Damn," one soldier said. "I wish we were downtown. You know, in on the action."

The other nodded, leaning against a lamppost. He pulled out a cigarette and offered one to his comrade. He lit both of theirs and took a pensive puff. "We're only out here in case Secretary McCord or her assistant happen to amble through here."

"And Anthony, the one who defected," the first said. "I trained with him once a few years ago. He was a nice kid, but he wasn't a revolutionary. Not like us."

They stood in the yellow-tinged light of the street lamps as they mused about the traitor when a flicker of movement caught the soldiers' eyes. A strange assortment of people were walking single file about two hundred feet ahead of them on the opposite side of the street. They stuck to the edge of the sidewalk, ducking out of the light as much as possible. It appeared that three were office workers of some sort, three were monks, and the one leading them was a man who towered over the rest by about a foot.

The soldiers glanced at one another. This was more than suspicious. They crossed the street to intercept the group, but they were marching briskly, almost a jog so that by the time the soldiers had crossed the street, they were already behind the group.

"Stop!" one of the soldiers shouted at them. The other put his hand on his gun.

"Stop!" he repeated. "We are UFOE soldiers, and we demand that you face us."

The group broke into a full on sprint. Without a second thought, the soldiers pelted down the street after them, raising their guns for a warning shot.

November 22, 7:04 p.m.

The crack of bullets shattered the still night air. Stan, one of the officers on duty that evening, frantically searched between the screens of various security feeds. A glimpse of movement caught his eye. He watched as a group of people ran from one screen to another, making their way towards the airfield's gates.

"Security," Stan said into his walkie talkie, trying to sound calm. "I have a group of strangers approaching the west gate."

"Open the gates! Please!" A frantic voice crackled through the security feed.

"I can't do that. It's not protocol," Stan tried to explain calmly. Back into his walkie talkie he added, "Security, they're demanding entrance. What do we do?"

"We don't have time for protocol!" the woman on the screen shouted. Despite the pixelation, Stan could tell that she was blonde and have a large purple bruise on the lower left side of her face.

"Sir, in the name of international security, let us in," she demanded. Her voice, though distorted, was beginning to sound familiar.

Stan narrowed his eyes. "Says who?"

"Secretary of State Elizabeth McCord. Now, open this gate!"

November 22, 7:06 p.m.

It was almost silent in the McCord house, save for the solemn sounds of a meal without Elizabeth McCord. Jason's fork scraped across his place as he disinterestedly moved his food into different piles. There were occasional sniffles from Alison's direction while Henry stared dully at the space behind her head. Stevie, who was now cutting her food into smaller and smaller pieces without actually eating any, had graciously invited Mr. Jackson over for dinner since he stopped by. He had said yes out of pity, but now he didn't know how to leave. The family looked so broken without Elizabeth that Russell felt guilty for advising the president to send her down to Osburg in the first place.

Russell's phone rang. Stevie jumped at the sound, but everyone else seemed oblivious.

"Excuse me," Russell grumbled and stepped in the hallway to answer the call. "Hello?"

"Mr. Jackson? My name is Officer Leigh. I'm calling from the American airfield in Osburg." She paused. "DS agent Frank, Nadine Tolliver, Matt Mahoney, Jay Whitman, Blake Moran, and Secretary McCord have been found. They should be back by mid-morning tomorrow."

Russell checked his watch. It was just after seven, and the flight from Osburg to DC was about 12 hours. "Why early afternoon? Shouldn't they get here by dawn?"

"They're taking a layover in Puerto Rico for a medical evaluation."

"Okay. Thank you, Dr. Leigh." He hung up the phone with a relieved sigh. He turned around to find four pairs of hopeful eyes looking back at him. "Your mom is coming home."

Stevie and Allison collapsed into their father's arms, the girls and Henry all weeping with joy. Jason, who also had tears in his eyes, tackled Russell into a hug who was momentarily stunned into silence by the teenage boy wrapped around his shoulders, but he eventually got his bearings enough to say, "I'm glad she's coming home too, kiddo."

* * *

I'm so sorry for the delayed update yet again! I promise it won't take me a month for the next chapter. I think there are only two chapters left, plus an epilogue. Thank you for your continued reviews, and let me know what you think of his chapter!


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

November 22, 11:45 p.m.

"Alright, Madam Secretary," the nurse said as she helped her sit up. "You don't have any symptoms of a concussion, but I still want you to take it easy for a few weeks."

Elizabeth nodded but could barely comprehend her words. She was beyond exhausted.

The nurse continued, "Your ribs are definitely broken, but I can't tell the severity or how many without an x-ray. I'm going to give you some Tylenol; it will help with the pain and swelling. Whether or not you take it is up to you." She handed the pills to Elizabeth who stared at them sitting in the little plastic cup.

"There's one other thing…" the nurse started.

She looked up, sensing that it was important.

"It say on your medical record that you've been diagnosed with PTSD and that you have a prescription for an anti-anxiety medication."

"Yeah," Elizabeth said curtly. Shame boiled up in her even though Henry and Dr. Sherman had told her time and time again that there was no reason to be ashamed.

The nurse picked up on her tone and eyed her carefully. "You've been through quite a bit in the past day. I wouldn't be surprised if these events trigger a panic attack. It might not be a bad idea to keep those meds close by, just in case. I'd also recommend setting up an appointment with your therapist as soon as possible."

"Okay," Elizabeth said softly. She didn't have the energy to fight with the nurse, to convince her that she was fine in the mental health department. Whether or not that was true, remained to be seen. "Can I go home now?"

"You're good to go. I've already contacted your regular doctor to let them know that you'll do a follow up when you get back."

A few minutes later, Elizabeth was back on the plane, waiting for her coworkers. She begrudgingly swallowed the Tylenol that the nurse had given her. Readjusting until she found a semi-comfortable position, she tried to go to sleep. It should have been easy, considering the number of hours she had been awake and the hint of sedatives still in her system, but her racing heart kept and trembling limbs kept her from sleeping. It felt like the beginning of a panic attack.

Elizabeth dug around in her purse until she found the unopened prescription bottle from years ago. For the first time in her life, she didn't fight. Instead, she took out one of the small white pills and downed it with a gulp of water. She was asleep before the plane even took off.

November 23, 8:00 a.m.

Daisy took a deep breath before she stepped into a room full of anxious reporters with their small notepads and flashing cameras. Almost immediately, journalists were hurling questions at her, recording devices thrust in her direction before she even had a chance to open her mouth.

"Miss Grant!" one shouted. "What can you tell us about the status of the Secretary and the rest of her staff?"

"Are they still missing?" someone asked.

"Has the coup in Osburg succeeded?" another added to the chaotic symphony of voices.

"Alright everyone, settle down," Daisy cried to interrupt the incessant questions. "I am pleased to announce that, with minimal American military aid, the coup was foiled. In addition to that, all members of the missing group of State Department workers including Secretary McCord and Mr. Moran are on a flight home. They are due to land in about two hours. They will be taking some time off to recuperate, and they would appreciate some privacy in the following weeks. We will not be taking questions at this time. Thank you."

A loud cheer and round of applause broke out. For perhaps the first time ever, the reporters from all different new stations could agree: this was unequivocally good news.

November 23, 11:05 a.m.

"Ma'am." Nadine tapped the Secretary's shoulder. There was no response. "Ma'am," she said again, a little louder.

"Hmm?" Elizabeth stirred, eyes blinking open reluctantly. The world seemed to be a lot blurrier than she remembered it, and her head was definitely heavier than she remembered it. The meds had knocked her out, and she was a little groggy. She felt like she could sleep for another hour at least.

"We'll be landing shortly," Nadine informed her.

"Okay, Elizabeth mumbled. She sat up slowly. It seemed that the Tylenol had worn off during the night, and even movement caused another jolt of pain through her ribs.

"Madam Secretary?" Blake asked in a soft voice.

She gave him a tired smile. "Really, after all we've been through, Elizabeth is just fine. We're so far off the clock."

"Okay, well, Elizabeth, I've been meaning to give these back to you," he said and opened his hand to reveal two rings. It felt like a lifetime ago that she had given those to him. _And if I don't make it... make sure these get back to Henry._ As they sat in her palm, she realized how much she had missed the comforting weight of them on her finger. It reminded her that she was finally going home. Within minutes, she would be reunited with her family.

"Thank you, Blake, for keep these safe," she said, placing them in her pocket.

He cocked his head to the side, confused. "You aren't going to put them back on?"

"No." Elizabeth shook her head. "I want Henry to do it." She recalled the day he had gotten down on one knee as asked— nearly begged— for her hand in marriage after a three day separation. And then their wedding day, one of the happiest days of her life. The two rings, one a simply silver band and the other adorned with a gorgeous sapphire, represented promises of fidelity and fulfillment. To think that they might have made it home without her was her worst nightmare. She was overwhelmingly grateful that she had the chance to see her kids grow up and to grow old with Henry.

"Are you okay?" Blake asked when he noticed the shimmering quality here eyes had taken on.

She let out something between a sob and a laugh. "I can't wait to be home."

* * *

I apologize in advance for how long it might take me to post the next chapter. I'm struggling to write the reunion because I want to make it good, so it's taking me quite a while to visulize it. On top of that, I'll be out of town. I might not get a chance to update until July (yikes). In the mean time, I'd love to hear what y'all think!


	16. Chapter 16

**Semi-long and semi-important author's note:**

1) This chapter almost wasn't going to happen. I thought about giving up this story, and the night I was going to post something about going on a long hiatus, one of my favorite stories "Baby, Even on My Worst Nights, I'm into You" by thedogisgreen was abandonded. I thought about how sad I was and then realized I didn't want to do that to any of you so I am determined to finish this no matter how long it takes.

2) So this was going to be the last chapter before the epilogue, but what would y'all think about me delving into their recovery a little bit? I've got a few ideas for Blake and Elizabeth bonding/healing. Thoughts?

3) A tiny bit of self-promo: I'm on tumblr parmejeannecheese if y'all want to follw me there

Alright, on to this chapter!

* * *

 **Chapter 16**

November 23, 11:10 a.m.

Anthony was the first to deplane. He was led by two intimidatingly tall agents to a black SUV, and he began to think the worst. What if he had come all this way only to be sent back to certain death? A slightly shorter, though just as imposing figure stepped out of the car and smiled, hand outstretched.

"Anthony, I am Conrad Dalton, president of the United States." Shocked, Anthony immediately reached out to shake his hand. The man continued, "I wanted to personally thank you for… well, everything. Our Secretary of State has already fast-tracked your visa. If citizenship is your goal, we'll be here to help. We are indebted to you."

"Thank you, Mr. President. I am… a bit overwhelmed," Anthony admitted.

"And probably exhausted," The President added. "Don't worry, we'll take care of you until you get your feet under you." With that, they departed to the White House to sort out his documents.

November 23, 11:11 a.m.

After what felt like lifetimes, the rest of the passengers started to deplane. First the DS agents, then the staff, and finally Elizabeth _._ Henry could barely see through the tears in his eyes, but he knew that she was still the most beautiful person in the world. Allison, who stood next to him, began to cry at the sight of her mother.

"Why don't you kids go first?" he suggested, nudging her forward.

"Dad? Are you sure?" Stevie asked.

"I'm sure," he replied. It felt like a lifetime since he had held her in his arms; he could spare a few moments to let their children welcome her home. "Just remember to be gentle with her. She's got some broken ribs and a possible concussion."

At those words, Allison broke out into a dead sprint towards their mother with her siblings following close behind. Elizabeth spotted her three kids rushing towards her, and though she was exhausted beyond words, her heart burst with joy and love.

"It's okay now, Noodle. I'm here," Elizabeth comforted her middle child as she wrapped her arms around her sobbing form. Jason approached seconds later.

"I love you, Mom," he said quietly yet fiercely, his first words since Russell had delivered the news the evening prior. He joined he hug, one arm around Allison and the other around his mother. A few feet behind them, Stevie stood blinking back emotion. She locked eyes with her mother who beckoned her forward.

"It's okay to cry, baby," Elizabeth whispered softly. "You don't have to be strong right now."

"I missed you so much." Stevie allowed a sob to escape as she managed to wrap her arms around her younger siblings and her mother.

"I'm so sorry I put you guys through that," Elizabeth breathed, voice cracking with strained effort not to cry in front of them.

As if she read her mother's mind, Stevie, through tears of her own, said, "The same thing goes for you too, Mom: It's okay to cry."

"Yeah, don't do the thing where you bottle up for feelings. We all know how that turned out the last time," Jason added. She choked out a laugh in spite of herself.

"It's okay to lean on us," Allison encouraged. "We're a family."

Surrounded by her three children, she couldn't hold it in any longer. Elizabeth dissolved into heaving sobs of gratitude. "I love you all so much."

While the kids reunited with their mother, Henry waited off to the side. Blake too watched the reunion from the sidelines. He was truly happy for them, but he couldn't help but to feel a slightest bit of sadness and jealousy that he didn't have people who loved him like that.

"Blake, where's your family?" Henry asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"My parents will be in tomorrow; all the flights were booked," he answered, looking down at the ground. "I was just going to take the metro home."

"Nonsense. You're coming with us."

Blake stumbled for words, floored by the offer but too tired to turn it down properly. "Thank you! I mean, thanks, but no thanks. That's a very generous offer, but I—"

"It's not a problem, really," Henry insisted. He lowered his voice as his tone because more serious as he said, "Take it as thank you for keeping my wife safe. I'm glad she wasn't alone this time."

"Thank your wife for keeping me safe. Speaking of which," Blake nodded in Elizabeth's direction, "I think she wants to say hi to you."

Henry hastily excused himself and made his way to his wife who smiled shakily. He cautiously placed a hand on the side of her face that wasn't bruised and his other on her hip. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah," she breathed and took a step closer, pressing their hips together and lips brushing against each other.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Always."

It started out tentative, but then transformed into a passionate kiss, lips and tongues conveying everything they thought and felt. _I'm sorry. Are you okay? Really okay? I missed you so much. I love you. I love you. I love you._ Henry dug his fingers into her hip and scalp as he drew her closer. They broke apart, Elizabeth sucking in a gasp of air.

"Oh Henry." She buried her face in his shoulder. "I almost didn't make it home." He kissed her the top of her head protectively.

"Shh, sweetheart. It's all over now. I'm right here" he tried to comfort her, but he was crying too. They clung to each other to reassure themselves that their little world wasn't falling apart as long as they were together. It took a while for them to calm down, but eventually Elizabeth felt stable enough to pull away a bit.

"Henry? I have to tell you something…" she trailed off, looking a little ashamed.

"Baby, what is it?"

"It's my rings. I took them off in case I didn't make it back. I wanted you to have a part of me." His heart missed a beat. Henry had known that she had been in danger, but to know that she had been so uncertain of her own life that she had taken off her rings truly put it into perspective. A fresh wave of tears welled up in his eyes. Elizabeth removed them from her pocket and look back up at him shyly. "Could you…?"

"Of course." He took the rings from her and put them on her ring finger one at a time, his movements were tender and loving. "There. Right where they should be." He kissed her softly and protectively, cradling her body against his. With the rings back on her finger and in the arms of her husband, Elizabeth felt a little more whole. She knew that the physical and psychological toll of her trip would catch up to her in the next weeks, but unlike when she had comeback from Iran, she knew that she had a strong support system to help her. Elizabeth sighed, leaning healing against the solid frame of her husband. Despite the almost twelve full hours of sleep she had gotten on the plane, she was drifting off again.

"Okay, babe," Henry whispered. "Time to go home.

"Finally."

* * *

Hope it lived up to expectations. Let me know what you think in the reviews!


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

November 23, 4:03 p.m.

They were settling in as well as they could, coping in the ways they knew how. Jason retreated to his room with his video games. Stevie was making dinner in an attempt to make things seem normal. Blake was in a daze, reclined in the couch fighting uneasy exhaustion. Allison refused to leave her parents' sides and curled up in their bed, finally asleep after an hour of sniffling. Henry had one arm around her, and the other around Elizabeth who had just finished taking a shower.

"How are you holding up?" he asked.

She gave him a shrug and a weak smile. "Okay, I guess."

"I'll be right here whenever you're ready."

"Same goes for you."

They gravitated towards each other, but the doorbell interrupted them.

"Mom!" Stevie hollered from downstairs. "It's the President and Mr. Jackson!"

"Be right there," she called, grasping Henry's hand as they headed down. Conrad and Russell were standing in the foyer chatting with Blake.

"It's good to have you home, Bess. I'm glad you're alright," Conrad said.

"Thank you, sir. And thank you for all you did when I was—"

He held up his hand and stopped her mid-sentence. "I'm the reason you were down there in the first place. The least I could do was help you get home."

Henry's grip tightened, resisting the urge to throttle the president for putting his wife in a dangerous situation once again. Elizabeth squeezed back, a silent message to let it go.

"How is Anthony?" She asked.

"Fine, I guess. He can't go back, so we'll offer him a job in the CIA working counterintelligence for UFOE when he's ready," Russell said in his typical offhand manner. "I hope you'll both be back at work soon."

"Good to see you too," Blake quipped. "I'm a little jet lagged, thanks for asking."

"Down, Russell," Conrad interrupted. "Take as much time as you need."

"Thank you, Mr. President," Elizabeth and Blake replied in unison.

November 23, 9:27 p.m.

Elizabeth, absolutely exhausted, crawled into bed and flopped on her back, the only comfortable way to sleep with her aching ribs.

Henry settled next to her cautiously. "How can we be close without me hurting you?"

She took his arm and draped it over her waist. "Stay, please."

"Always."

November 24, 4:03 a.m.

 _It was cold in the cell. It was empty except for a lump on the floor that covered by some sort of fabric. Blake crawled on his hands and knees over to it and pulled back the cover._

" _No," he whispered._

 _Her skin was pale and cool to the touch._

" _No," he said, voice shaking with disbelief._

 _Her hair was reddened with blood._

" _No!" He shouted. "You can't be dead!"_

 _Her blue eyes stared back at him, dull and lifeless._

Blake bolted awake, a cry involuntarily escaping his throat. It felt like something was squeezing their air out of his lungs. He thrashed about, trying to escape the sheet he had somehow tangled himself in while asleep. Not realizing how close he was to the edge of the couch, he fell off with a thump, narrowly missing the coffee table on his way down. The sounds of his distress must have alerted the other members of the household because the kitchen lights flicked on.

"Blake, you have to breathe." Elizabeth's voice was paired with a firm grip on his shoulder. "Listen to me. I know it feels scary, but I want you to know that you are safe. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere; I promise."

A soft hand rest on his cheeks and brushed away tears he didn't even know were there. He became aware that the tightness in his chest had loosened and that breathing seemed less impossible.

"What just happened?" Blake's voice sounded grainy and hoarse. "I remember having a nightmare, then suddenly it felt like I was dying."

"You just had a panic attack like the one I had when I came back from Iran." There was a small pause as he digested this information. "I'm going to call Dr. Sherman tomorrow," Elizabeth said. "I think it would be good for me to talk to her about everything that's happened. You're welcome to come with me, if you think that would help."

He nodded but was interrupted by a yawn. The panic attack had drained what little energy he had had.

"Try to get some more rest," she said. "Wake me up if you need anything."

November 24, 4:57 a.m.

"How's Blake?" Henry asked, still half asleep, when she crawled back into bed.

"He's a tough kid," she replied. "I'm going to call Dr. Sherman tomorrow and set up an appointment for the both of us."

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I'm proud of you."

November 24, 6:12 a.m.

Henry woke up for good a few hours later, Elizabeth in his arms. There was a moment of peace before the chokehold of fear began to strangle him, and the simple task of breathing became difficult as he realized how close he had been to losing her. The change in his demeanor must have alerted Elizabeth because she woke up and snuggled closer.

"Babe, what's wrong?"

"Thank you for coming home."

* * *

I'm so so so sooooo sorry to anyone who is still reading this. This chapter is a hot mess and has just been sitting partially finished in my google docs. I suddenly got motivated (?) a few days ago and just powered through it. I'm not super happy with it, but at this point I just really needed to post something. I kinda got super side-tracked and discouraged with this fic. But here's an update! Next chapter (if I ever get around to posting it, lol) will be the epilogue. I'd love to hear what y'all think! Thank you so much for sticking with me, every single review means so much to me and has kept me posting.


	18. Chapter 18

**Epilogue**

October 8, 7:40 a.m.

Over the past two weeks, Elizabeth and Blake took time to recover from their misadventure. They had several visits with Dr. Sherman, sometimes together or with members of their family, sometimes alone. Dr. Sherman and Henry were proud of how they were handling it. Despite being workaholics, they seemed to understand that time off was what they needed most. On the promise that they would call if something happened and continue to attend sessions, Blake and Elizabeth were both cleared to return to the state department.

"It's good to have you back, Madam Secretary," a DS agent who was driving said. "I was worried I might get reassigned." They both cracked a smile. More seriously, he added, "I'm glad you're alright, Madam Secretary."

When they arrived at the State Department, there was a small crowd of reporters that snapped photos as she walked in. Blake arrived around the same time, and they rode the elevator up together.

"Hey, Blake. How are you holding up?"

"I'm doing well. I'm glad to be back," he replied honestly and handed her a hot cup of coffee.

She smiled. "Me too. Let me know if you need anything, okay?"

"I will."

The doors dinged as they arrived at the seventh floor.

"Good morning!" her staff chorused, wide grins on their faces. The whole floor exploded into applause. After a short reunion, Elizabeth clapped her hands to get everyone's attention.

"Back to work, everyone! We have lots to do!"

December 8, 4:15 p.m.

Though the day had been relatively short, Elizabeth was completely exhausted when she got home.

"Hey, babe!" Henry greeted her with a kiss. "How was your first day back?"

"Okay. I really enjoyed it, actually." She snuggled into him, his arms wrapping around her instinctively.

"That's good to hear."

After a beat, she asked, "When will the kids be home?"

"Not for another hour, at least. Why? Got any plans?"

"You haven't had the chance to welcome me home properly yet," she suggested, biting her lower lip.

"Well then," he grinned, "I guess I'd better do something about that." He tugged her towards the stairs as she giggled behind him with joy. Elizabeth was finally right where she was meant to be: Home.

* * *

A/N: It's been a wild ride, but it's finished! I hope this is a satisfying conclusion for everyone. Thank you all so much for sticking with me, and I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave a review about what you thought of this final chapter, or of the story as a whole. Thanks again! Y'all are the best.

Also, Shout out to Awkward Little Turtle, whose review motivated me to actually finish the epilogue.


End file.
